“I just didn’t think it was possible to stay pure after falling.” she said, fighting back tears.
As a girl who had previously obliterated my own purity, I wondered the same thing myself. I was a new Christian faced with the mistakes I had made and the consequences they brought to my doorstep. Could I truly say “no” if my next boyfriend wanted to have sex? Was it even possible to conquer the beast that is lust?
Here’s the biggie: Could I ever love God more than my sexual desires?
This weekend I read Maddi Runkles’ story: How she discovered she was pregnant her senior year of high school, confessed to her school, and consequential to the sexual sin that caused the pregnancy was not allowed to attend classes or walk in their graduation (though she did receive a diploma). I then read the statement by Heritage Academy – why they dealt with a pregnant student in the manner they did.
“Is lingerie sinful?”
“What is oral sex?”
“How do I get over my husband’s sexual history?”
These questions have a common denominator: many of their authors never received a sex talk. If they did, it was insufficient or laced with the influence of cultural worldviews. Our Christian young women are seeking answers about their sexuality.
The world is ready to give them what they want.
We need to reach them first.
Christians are already being sexually discipled – by the world. Young women learn about sex from Cosmo magazine, novels, and girl’s nights. Young men are exposed to pornography at as young as eight years old. Sexual addictions and perversions are as present in the church as they are in our culture, but no one wants to speak up because of the shame.
We’ve been taught to run from our sexuality.
Good Christian girls don’t talk about it; they aren’t even sure what to do with it. We know sex is for marriage, but what do you do before marriage? What do you do with these desires?
I can tell you one thing NOT to do: run from it. We need to stop running from our sexuality. I’m not talking about sexual sin or temptation; I’m talking about sexuality itself – our capacity for desire, the foundation of marital intimacy. Our sexual selves don’t suddenly “turn on” once we say “I do”. Our sexuality is part of our identities.